


Apple & Plum

by SweatingHerLadyBollocksOff



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/F, Inspired by that one deleted scene, Lesbian Character, Malcolm Tucker Doesn't Understand Women, Malcolm is Confused, Nic is Gay, Post-Goolding Inquiry, Too many mentions of Chutney, lesbian mums
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:53:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweatingHerLadyBollocksOff/pseuds/SweatingHerLadyBollocksOff
Summary: Nicola is remarried. Malcolm's on the pull. It's absolutely not what you expect.
Relationships: Nicola Murray/Original Female Character
Comments: 12
Kudos: 8





	1. Market

**Author's Note:**

> Roughly five years post-Inquiry.

_to: crofton &co@gmail.com_  
_from: nicolaamurray@outlook.com_

_attached: stocktakeWBLM.xlsx_

Here you go, Bam. Did the stocks for Westminster Bridge Lunch Market tomorrow - since I love you. Have a good day today. N x 

(You owe me lunch)

_to: nicolaamurray@outlook.com_  
_from: crofton &co@gmail.com_

Two hours unpaid labour = free lunch. You need a new email address. ♡

Love u millions, B xx 

_to: crofton &co@gmail.com_  
_from: nicolaacrofton@outlook.com_

I've got one!! I just keep forgetting to change it over. An hour and a half max. N x

* * *

_Westminster Bridge Lunch Market, SE1 7EP_

"-and this is our signature chutney, the apple and plum. It's gorgeous, perfect for cheese or cold meats. I like it in toasties, especially with leftovers from a roast - yeah, I know, best bit, isn't it?" Nicola grinned, completely charming the young couple perusing her stall. "We can do three for £12, so take your pick. They're great for gifts - your mum's birthday? Does she like spicy stuff? Oh, she'll love the chilli jam..." Twenty four pound sterling pocketed later, and Nicola was feeling quite proud of herself. "Bam? Bam! Do you have any bags?" Perhaps she wasn't quite the natural salesperson yet. 

Paper bag sourced, she was just watching the lovely young couple leave hand in hand when she looked up at her next customer and nearly dropped the last jar of Winter Berry. Thank fuck she hadn't. "Malcolm? Oh my _god_." "Nic'la - what the fuck? - sorry, there's kids - ye run a chutney stall?" Nicola narrowed her eyes, prepared to defend herself and not afraid to use free samples to do it. "Here-" she said firmly, handing him a cracker with a scoop of Apple and Plum on the end. "Nic, m'not - I was just passing by" he protested, his mind working overtime to catch up. Nicola. Smiling, relaxed healthy-looking Nicola. Chutney. Smells fucking good. Was she really very likely to have come up with all this as an elaborate plot to poison him? He took the cracker, careful not to touch her outstretched fingers, and crunched it into his mouth in one go. "It's gre- /oh/. That is great" Malcolm mumbled around the remnants of cracker, making Nicola laugh softly. "See! Now you know how she reeled me in" Nicola grinned, watching him lick the crumbs off his lips and peruse the rest of her offerings. "Buying for yourself? I can help you choose something..." she offered, letting him take in all the gorgeous well-filled glass jars with professional looking stickers. "Aye, just for me. Like I said, passing through. M'obsessed with the baguette stall" Malcolm admitted a little sheepishly. "Oh, us too, we love them." She watched his eyebrows react before his face did, knitting together in the middle and then going their seperate ways, the left rising as the right settled in a more neutral position. "We?" He prompted, suddenly noticing the bright emerald ring on her finger, glinting next to the jar she was holding. "Congratulations" he added quickly, making her smile. He'd forgotten she was so fucking smiley. 

"Oh! Yeah. I got remarried, after fucking James. Not hard to outdo that, but - I'm really happy" Nicola admitted before realising she'd neglected to introduce him. "Bam! Bambi!" She called across the stall, startling the tall, slim blonde woman scribbling something down on a clipboard. "What? We don't have any extras -" the blonde sighed, before looking up and seeing Nicola waving her over. She put her notes down, briefly brushing her hands over her massive, wavy hair before coming over. Depsite the cobbled surfaces she was clearly wearing heels, clip clipping along the stones as she leant over the table to shake his hand, fluttering long false eyelashes at him slightly. Christ, she was _gorgeous_. Sister in law? Was shagging Nicolas sister in law okay? Did she say her name was fucking Bambi? "Nicole, Malcolm. Malcolm, Nicole" Nic explained, standing back a little to let them shake hands. This was going to be good. Malcolm laughed softly, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at her like he always did. "Nicola, ye daft bint, she's no' Nic'la, you're Nicola. Anyway, nice to meet ye, I'm Malcolm, she got that bit right at least" he grinned, gazing up at the striking woman about Nicola's age, so slightly younger than him. Definitely an interesting prospect. "No, no, she was right - I'm Nicole. Nicola and Nicole. I'm her wife". 

If his brain had needed to reboot at the idea of Nicola Murray running a condiment company and feeding him crackers out of her hands, he required a full body reset to come to terms with the realisation that Nicola was married to a woman. That woman. It wasn't the woman bit that baffled him, not really, he'd always had his suspicions. Well, Sam had her suspicions, and that was as good as factual to Malcolm. But this woman - Nicole - Bambi? Christ. He could see how Nicola had ended up being roped into the chutney thing. "Christ, I'm such a twat - sorry, darlin. S'great to meet ye. I love all the -" he said quickly, running out of instinctive social niceties as he tried to search for the words he wanted. "All the stuff. That one - the apple thing - that was really nice." Nicole and Nicola smiled at the same time, and thankfully they looked almost completely opposite to each other, else it would have been a bit creepy. "That's maybe the nicest thing you've ever said to me" Nicola teased, whilst Nicole went for "you can call me Bambi, I know it's easier." Bambi - how the fuck? "Cause of the legs" Nicola supplied helpfully for once, gesturing to the stark contrast between her wifes long, slender legs and her own desperately short, curvy ones. Nicola and Nicole, Malcolm thought again, spinning it round and round in his head like it might make some sense. Chutney making lesbians. Nicola, Nicola Murray, in mum jeans and a sweatshirt with a dog on it, and thick-rimmed glasses perched on her head, hand in hand with leggy, elegant, blazer-and- suffocating-skinny-jeans Bambi. **Christ** **alive**. 


	2. Tea

Tesco:

Peppers  
Halloumi  
Conditioner - silver bottle  
Evening Primrose Oil  
GF pizza  
Almond milk  
Coleslaw  
Birthday card for Beth  
Peaches  
Eye makeup remover stuff  
Prescriptions  
Contacts!!!!

* * *

It takes most of Malcolm's immense willpower to not smile as he briefly casts his eye over Nicola's familiar handwriting. The list has been constructed on a specially dedicated pad, with neat ruled lines and a pink border with a little kitten in the bottom corner, and affixed to the fridge with a magnet in hideous seventies orange and brown geometric pattern. The rest of the house is not much different, a mix of two clearly very different styles that somehow seem to gel together anyway. From the outside its all Nicola, a quaint, cottage-style house in the middle of fields, and fuck knows how she managed to find a place like this within a bearable distance from London proper. There's a couple of outbuildings, and the main house must be at least five or six bedrooms, which makes Malcolm immediately wonder who else is here. Perhaps Katie moved back in after finishing uni, though he's pretty sure Ella's boarding at that theatre school he briefly heard about through some mutual acquaintance he hasn't bothered to remember properly. Maybe they had kids? How long ago did Nic say they met? Five years ago, and Christ, it feels like a lifetime. Could be a lifetime, if you're five. Fuck, maybe they had kids. Maybe other people are moving on. Nicola was occupied making tea, so he took a moment to glance around, working out what he could about her new life. There were photos everywhere, of Nicola and Bam separately, each with a small army of kids nestled around them, though there was a conspicuous absence of any father figures. He'd spotted rows and rows of varying sizes of shoes as he'd come in through the floral wallpapered hallway, and he was trying to match them up to the various children when Nicola turned back round to face him and laughed at his look of deep contemplation. 

"I've only got almond milk, sorry" she says softly, splashing just the right amount into his coffee before handing it over. The mug is just as hideous as the fridge magnet, a busy Orla Kiely design, and Malcolm wonders for a moment whether its Nicola or Nicole who has such a taste for awful vaguely seventies inspired kitsch. Definitely Nicole. Nicola would live in a soft pink velvet palace if she could. She seems happy here, though, at ease in her little slipper boots, leggings and an oversized soft jumper, and perhaps this is what people mean when they talk about compromise. Perhaps compromise is more about wallpaper and kitchen design, and should not therefore be applied without scrutiny to questions such as "do you think we should try to get pregnant?" and "do you think we should get a divorce?" It's a slightly baffling notion, that he's the divorced doormat and Nicola Murray seems to have a happy marriage where they both get what they want, but here they are. Perhaps he'll ask her for some tips. Or perhaps he should achieve more than three dates with the same woman first, before he starts questioning Nicola on how exactly to keep your wife sweet without letting her walk all over you. "They're Bambi's kids" Nicola says out of nowhere, breaking him out of his thoughts. He's been staring at a photo of Bambi and her three kids, lost in thought, ignoring the cup of tea that Nicola is holding out for him. Why the hell did he come over? 

"I'm glad you came over" Nicola hums gently as they sit down at the kitchen table, once again startling him. Right, so she's a mind reader now too. "Aye, well, yknow - you did offer, and I havenae got much else on" Malcolm admits, focusing his eyes on his coffee. If he stares at her family photos any longer he's going to look really fucking weird. "Have ye lived here long? Beautiful place" he adds, and means it, mostly. It's a little cluttered for his liking, and he can't get his head around the proliferation of framed motivational messages in cross stitch, but its very Them. "Pretty much since we met" Nicola laughs, making Malcolm's eyebrows raise despite himself. "Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration - but about four years, I think. It was Bam's house, she'd just moved here when we met, and then I split with James and I didn't - I wasn't in a great place. Didn't have the kids for a bit" she explains, her lips forming that firm straight line that declares her absolute wish to not elaborate further. "Anyway, James was being a prick about the house, so Bam just offered for me to stay with her for a bit. Couldn't believe my luck" Nic smiles, and her absolute childish joy makes him smile too. "Aye, she's.... one hell of a woman" Malcolm grins, making Nic roll her eyes. It's still natural, the banter, even if teasing Nicola about her hot wife wasn't something he'd ever had tucked away in his mental conversation topics folder. "She is. And I just never really left, and eventually things worked out with the kids, so now they live here too. When they're not with James. There's eight of them, normally" she says as if its normal, and Malcolm feels his heart protest. _No, no-no-no, eight kids is not normal and you're not fucking having that_ it tells him, beating away too fast under his favourite cashmere jumper. "Eight? Fucking hell, Nic. So that's your four, and Bam's three wee ones and-?" He stumbles, realising it doesn't add up. "And the baby" Nicola adds, and his head spins. The baby. She doesn't look any different, though Christ knows how long new mothers look different for, and he's careful not to put his foot right on the _Aren't You Both A Bit Old_ landmine. Its clearly utterly obvious on his face though, from the way Nicola's giving him that slightly smug self-satisfied smile reserved for when she's utterly baffled him. "I say the baby, he's nearly one. And he's Katie's, so. We're not mentioning the G word, so don't you dare." 

She's a fucking grandmother. Whilst he's been faffing around with private sector PR and his utterly frustrating memoirs, Nicola has added yet another branch to her family tree. He suddenly feels overwhelmed, a little tense with jealousy, and he forces himself to gather it all up and breathe it out. Nicola catches the motion, of course, she's a magnet for the anxious and the unsure, and she digs around in a kitchen drawer then hands him a little green stone. A turtle, he realises, some sort of heavy, smooth, stone carved into the shape of a turtle, and this really isn't helping his general sense of not having a fucking clue what's going on. "It's calming" Nic explains, as if that makes sense, and then she's got her hand wrapped round his, encouraging his thumb to stroke the turtle's back. It is actually pretty soothing, and he falls into a familiar rhythm of asking her about the kids and what she's doing for work as she force feeds him biscuits. Sat here at her kitchen table, stroking the ridiculous turtle and nibbling on a chocolate digestive, Malcolm can almost forget all the awful things he did to her. Perhaps this is her way of saying she accepts his unspoken apology. Or perhaps he's being far too hopeful. 

It's the late arrival of Bambi that finally disturbs their nostalgia, having just been discussing Helen's recent wedding. He couldn't really care less, but Nicola seems to have an invite to everything, and he isn't surprised. She's so much calmer now, less jittery and much more sure of herself, and it makes her deeply pleasant to be around and share tea with. Bambi, however, Malcolm is much less sure about, and his slight anxiety only twists and sharpens further as she leans elegantly against the kitchen counter and _glares_ at him. Nicola's back is turned, reaching up into the cupboard for another mug, and he suddenly feels like he's being picked on at school when the teacher isn't watching. He reaches for something to say, looking away from Bambi and towards Nicola, who's chosen a pretty floral mug and is about to turn around and relieve him from Bambi's bullying when it suddenly slips out of her fingers and crashes onto the kitchen tiles. They both reach for her in the same moment, a small army ready to defend Nicola from shards of china, and she bats them away with those flappy hands that mean a true meltdown is incoming. "S'alright, Nic, no harm done" Malcolm offers, and that really doesn't seem to help - in fact, she bursts into tears, big heaving child-like sobs, and excuses herself to barricade behind the door of the downstairs loo. "Sorry, I - that obviously wasn't the right thing to say" he murmurs a little sheepishly, picking up the pieces as best he can. "That's your fault, you do know that?" Bambi says, very calmly and yet razor sharp, and Malcolm's suddenly lost at sea again. He hadn't said anything awful, surely? He was just trying to fucking help, Jesus, is that a crime these days? "I wasnae trying to upset her" he protests, managing to keep a tight hold on his temper as he deposits the shards into the kitchen bin and spots a dustpan and brush hanging up in the small utility room. A row of little wellies makes him wince slightly. 

"Makes a change" Bambi grumbles, and he lets her have that one. Thankfully Nicola re-emerges a few minutes later, just as he's thinking he might make a move and leave, and she seems to have gotten herself back under control. She curls into Bambi's side, one of her wife's delicate hands resting on her head, Bambi's long elegant fingers stroking through Nicola's slight curls. They look great together, a handsome couple and utterly at ease. "Sorry about that" Nicola murmurs, at just the same time he thinks about leaving again. "Oh, don't ye worry about it, pet. These things happen" Malcolm reassures her, and she knows he means more than he can say. "Stay? For a bit. Have some lunch" she suggests, and even Bambi has softened a little, now she's got her tucked into her side. He doesn't have anywhere else to go, and maybe he owes her one. For not being a prick about all this, and for giving him free chutney and inviting him over, and sending him little meaningless texts whenever he thinks he might just cut her off and forget any of this ever happened. "If yer sure" he smiles, a little shyly, and she beams back. "Aye, alrigh' then" Nicola parrots, an exact mimicry of his accent that makes Bambi chuckle despite herself. This probably won't be the worst lunch of his life. Definitely not as bad as chicken lasagna with Paul McCartney. Maybe he could actually let himself relax. 


	3. Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm tries to work things out. Bambi is.... well, she's Bambi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These past two chapters have been oddly Malcolm focused which wasn't entirely the plan! But they're starting to work things out, so more Domestic Lesbian Nic content to come. Maybe they'll force Malcolm to go to the zoo together with the kids or something.

There was no chicken lasagna, thank fuck. Bambi set about covering a huge marble and wood platter with sandwiches, mini chicken satays, cheese, and various other picnic bits. Malcolm was desperate to help, and surely there was no way to butter bread _wrong_ , but the way Bambi had politely but firmly taken the knife from his hand said otherwise. He turned back to Nicola, once again feeling slightly like he was being picked on, and she just smiled softly. "Sit" she mouthed, gesturing to the seat he'd vacated opposite her. "She doesn't like help" Nicola whispered, but she was smiling still, clearly finding it funny rather than irritating. That was weird. To find humour in each others faults and foibles, rather than coming to verbal blows in the kitchen in front of your guests. Perhaps he really did need a subscription to the Nicola Crofton Marriage School. She could probably do him a weekly newsletter or something. She probably actually would, given how bizarrely normal and welcoming she was being. "Is that from your wedding?" He asked, curious but also simply reaching for something to say. There was a framed photo behind where Nicola was sitting, a gorgeous black and white shot of Nicola and Bam kissing, Nicola's fingers tangled in Bam's long wavy curly hair. It was much more intimate than anything he'd expected Nicola to have in her kitchen, a blatant celebration of their love and happiness that he couldn't help but smile looking at it. "Yeah, it is" Nic murmured, turning to look for a moment before looking back at him and catching his grin. "Look at you! Grinning away. I always knew you were a soft touch." He flushed then, a prickly heat creeping up his chest and neck, looking down at the stone tiled kitchen floor. "Give it up, Nics. Ye just look happy, and - I'm glad" he admitted, paddling his toes on the edge of Everything. It was still a little frosty to dive right in, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to, anyway. There was a conspicuous pause in Bambi's lunch preparations, what others probably would have thought of as a pregnant pause, but Malcolm fucking hated that phrase. He couldn't see her face, obscured by a curtain of thick blonde waves, each curl containing at least five tones and shades and a lifetime of careful maintenance. But he could see her shoulders under the crisp blue shirt she was wearing, saw the way her muscles tightened and she shifted on her feet slightly, her leopard print ballet flats a sharp contrast to Nicolas soft looking, slightly saggy slippers. "Nicole. Don't." His attention snapped back to Nicola, wondering how she just /knew/. 

"I'm not-" Bambi protested, before the peace was shattered by the sound of a baby crying. There was something off about the sound, slightly mechanical, and then he realised there was a baby monitor next to Nicola, by the mountains of fruit in the wooden bowl. "Can you get Fred, please, sweetheart?" Nicola suggested, and Bambi stalked off with only the slightest hint of a strop. "I didn't know the wee one was here" Malcolm said, just to break the frost that had followed Bambi out of the room. "Yeah, Katie's at work, so we look after him while she's out. Michael's got him this afternoon, so it's a good job he's woken up." God, kids sounded like so much admin. He was just about to ask what her other kids were up to, when Bambi reappeared with the most cherubic, chubby little baby boy he'd ever seen. "Aaa!" he screeched, and Malcolm was instantly obsessed. "Heya, little lad. I can have him, Bam, if ye like? I'm good at the eating one handed thing" Malcolm smiled, trying to ease over whatever it was he'd caused there. A reluctant smile snuck out despite herself, and Nicola looked like she might burst with pride. Apparently her wife smiling at someone was up there with her kids graduating. Or maybe it was just her wife smiling at /him/ that was so rare. Understandable. Still, she'd handed him the baby, so it wasn't like she thought he was a total bastard. Bastards weren't allowed babies.

Baby Freddie provided a welcome distraction for them all, and it was easy enough to eat the little sandwiches and bits of cheese on crackers with the little lad sat on his lap. It somehow gave him courage, the weight of him on his knee, a reassurance that with their grandson around, he was less likely to get verbally eviscerated by Bambi. Or Nicola, if she happened to remember what a prick he'd been. "Bam, I - listen. You too, Nic, actually. I know you didn't invite me here for me to apologise, you prefer just moving on, I know that" he started, beginning to wonder if opening his mouth had been a mistake. If coming here had been a mistake. But she'd invited him, for fucks sake. She'd told him all this the one singular time they'd spoken after everything had happened - she'd called him on the night that it had broken on the ten o'clock news that he was being sentenced. It had stooped him drinking himself into oblivion, anyway. There had been tears, from him, and sharp words from her, and then eventually an admission that she never wanted to talk about it again. An apology wouldn't fix it, so it was better for them to both try and rebuild. To grow, if that was at all possible. So he wasn't about to apologise now. "I dunnae why you invited me, to be honest, not that it isn't lovely to be here. I'm - really grateful. And - I just - I don't think I'm quite as much of an arsehole, now. But only other people can tell me that, obviously. What I mean is I'm working on it. I'm not gonnae hurt people anymore, at least not on purpose." Bambi was scrutinising him, her dark eyes laser focused on his face, so he kept his own eyes trained on Nicola's soft, trusting expression. If he locked eyes with Bam he'd probably blow up or turn to stone or something. 

"You didn't need to say that" was the eventual response, and Malcolm was surprised to hear it come from Bambi. "If Nic trusts you, and she clearly does, then I'll accept that. I know I can be - a possessive prick" she continued, making Nicola smile and roll her eyes slightly. "But it's not for me to be telling my wife who not to make friends with, and we're not four." She sipped her cup of tea with very slightly pursed lips, but it seemed like that was as much of an explanation as he was likely to get. He looked across at Nicola, realising the little turtle she'd given him earlier was now tucked safely in her hand. Was he making her anxious? Fuck. Maybe he was ruining this one opportunity to make things okay, even if they weren't ever going to be best friends. Freddie was shuffling a little in his lap, picking up on the tension. He glanced to the turtle, then back up at Nic, raising an eyebrow. "Not you, I just like it" she promised, able to cotton on immediately to what he was worried about. "Relax. I'm not cross. Bam's not cross. I want us to be okay." 

Okay. Okay was achievable. He'd had an okay marriage. Not that he was marrying Nicola. He'd never been interested in her, despite the gossip. His heart had a big fiery ring around it since Lucy, and nothing could get past that. Except Sam, most of the time, and his family. But he could be an okay friend. He was a good friend, to Sam and Jamie, they told him that all the time. Mostly because he got so fucking neurotic about it all the time. Maybe he could be an okay/good friend to Nicola too. He took another sandwich, letting Freddie gum at a bit of bread, not caring that most of it got spat back out onto his lap. "So, Bam, how did you get into the chutney stuff?" He asked, scooping up some apple and plum with a cracker and some mature cheddar. He could probably get used to this. If she'd let him. 


End file.
